


the ones left unchosen: drabbles

by HelgaHufflepunk



Series: Poe Party Hogwarts AU [1]
Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst and Humor, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, like everything i do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelgaHufflepunk/pseuds/HelgaHufflepunk
Summary: Just little drabble-y side-bits to The Ones Left Unchosen. They have nothing to do with the overall plot and everything to do with the fact that i....just wanted to write them.





	

“Does she ever stop smiling?” Charlotte whispers to Anne on the train, as Jane Austen, Head Girl, stops a second year outside their compartment, a megawatt grin on her face.

Anne shakes her head, leaning her head in towards her sister’s. “Once I caught her smiling in her sleep,” she murmurs, eyeing the chattering girl on the other side of the door. “It’s so unnerving.”

“Tell me about it,” Charlotte replies, and the sisters share a look and a laugh before settling back against their seats.

* * *

A few compartments down, Annabel Lee sits, frozen, holding Lenore’s hand as tight as she can without hurting her. “What if we don’t get the same House?” she asks, fretfully, for the millionth time all summer. “I know you keep saying it doesn’t matter, but…”

“Anna Banana,” Lenore sighs, fondly exasperated. “You have literally no need to worry. No matter what Houses we get, we’re us. There’s no way we’re ever gonna not be friends. Okay?”

Annabel bites her lip, nervously, and then nods, letting out a deep breath.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

* * *

It’s with a flop and a sudden absence of light that Edgar Allan Poe is introduced to the Sorting Hat. It’s too big, and he has to resist the urge to shove it up out of his eyes, so he can see the Great Hall once again. He doesn’t like it, the darkness, the not-knowing, the in-between - he doesn’t like sitting up here, in front of all of these people, knowing that they’re waiting for - something.

For him to be Sorted. (Or is it ‘sorted’, lowercase ’s’? He’s not sure. It feels like it should be uppercase; it all feels so…big. And daunting. And un…little.)

“Ah,” a voice hums throughout his mind, tickling the edges of his skull and making him shiver and shift and tense in discomfort. “That’d be - RAVENCLAW!”

A cheer rises, and the light returns.

* * *

“Merlin, Hemingway,” Mary Ann Evans greets him, eyes wide with shock. “You look like shit!”

Ernest grumbles, flopping groggily down onto the table, unaware of the nasty look the motion earns him on behalf of Louisa Alcott, who had been reading rather peacefully before his arrival. “No, _you_  look like…shmit…” he grumbles.

“Looks some _some_ body had a little too much to drink at the Slytherin party last night,” Krishanti laughs from down the table, sending snickers skittering through the mess of Gryffindors as they file in for breakfast.

“Shhhh…go ‘way…leave m’ alone…”

Just then, Mary Ann spots someone waltzing into the Great Hall, and stands, waving them over obnoxiously. “Oi! Wilde! C'mere!”

Ernest freezes.

“Mmm, good morning, Miss Evans,” Oscar greets a moment later, leaning over her shoulder playfully. “We missed you _terribly_  at my party last night. That cute little Brontë brother was there, did you hear? Though, somebody told Austen about it, so it all ended much sooner than I would’ve liked - I swear, if that girl had a stick any further up her ass, it would probably be tickling the back of her _throat._ ”

“How…graphic,” Louisa May sniffs, and he rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to offer up some scathing retort or another, before catching sight of the slumped body that was once Ernest Hemingway.

His eyes light up. “Oh, _hello_  there, Ernie. I see that the firewhiskey isn’t agreeing with you.”

Ernest replies with a noise that might’ve originated as a thought, but just sounds like garbled nonsense, and Oscar hums, eyes lit up knowingly.

Louisa May sighs, and tucks her face deeper into her book, wishing - not for the first time - that the Hat had Sorted her into a quieter House.

* * *

Lenore dies in her fifth year at Hogwarts.

Annabel cries. Guy de Vere throws himself into the Lake. Edgar Poe reads about it in the Daily Prophet, and wonders why Hogwarts bothers calling itself the safest place on Earth when things like this are still happening every day.

(She comes back as a ghost, and Guy does not, and she is forced to spend an eternity wondering why.)

* * *

“Hey,” says Mary Shelley one day, administering a (rather rude) kick to Edgar’s shin.

He looks up from his book in annoyance, but the other Ravenclaw doesn’t pay his irritation any mind, just nodding over to whatever’s got her attention now. Edgar follows her line of sight, and sees - a Hufflepuff, around their age, laughing over at a bench across the courtyard.

“That’s Annabel Lee,” she whispers, eyes wide and glittering like they always do when she smells a mystery - like this should mean something to him.

Poe shrugs. “And?”

“Merlin’s _beard_ , don’t you know _anything_?” Mary asks. And then, without giving him any time to respond: “Annabel Lee. As in the best friend of Lenore. As in the girl that died last year. As in the one that came back as a _ghost._ ”

“I’m…not entirely sure I like where this is going,” H.G. Wells speaks up, from where he’s sitting on the ground next to Mary’s feet, eyebrows furrowed above his glasses, fingers twitching around his quill.

Edgar frowns in agreement, and Mary rolls her eyes.

“I’m just _saying_ , it’s spooky, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Not really,” Edgar mumbles, turning back to his book. “All ghosts have friends at some point, probably.”

“All ghosts ‘cept Peeves,” Agatha Christie interjects, from where she’s leaning against the side of the bench, nose scrunched. “He’s too annoying. Even the Fat Friar has trouble dealing with him, and he’s the nicest ghost in the castle.”

“Peeves is a poltergeist,” Mary corrects. “Poltergeists are just pains in the ass.”

“So is Hemingway,” Christie snorts, “and he still has friends.”

Edgar’s lips twitch into a smile, at that.

* * *

Emily Dickinson sits at a table in the library, studying for her N.E.W.T.s, when she spots Jim, whistling and sweeping his way through some of the nearby stacks.

“You know, I think Madam Pince has magic for that,” she says, and the man startles, looking over at her like he hadn’t realized she was there. It doesn’t phase her as much as it it would have, once; Emily had accepted her lot in life a long time ago.

“Hm?” he asks, and she nods to the broom, shifting in her chair.

“For cleaning,” she explains. “You don’t have to do it yourself, like that.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” he says, waving her off, smile bright. “I like doing it by hand. Helps me remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Oh, you know, just - how lucky I am to be here with all of this.” He smiles, kind and friendly, and waves around at the books, before leaning in, close. “Not many of us Squibs have a place in the Wizarding World at all, you know.”

Emily’s eyebrows furrow. “Doesn’t it bother you?” she asks. “Being around magic like this, and not being able to do it.”

“Eh,” he says. “Sometimes. But then I remember magic can be a lot more trouble than its worth, if y'know what I mean.”

She thinks of Annabel’s drawn curtains and the empty chair in the common room that Guy used to study in, and she thinks to herself that she does understand, at least a little.

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit with us?” Emily asks, soft and kind, as she loiters in the door of Annabel’s compartment. “There’s space. And a lot of chocolate. And Mary Ann and Oscar are really not as intimidating when you get used to them.”

Annabel smiles, softly. “I’m sure,” she replies. “Thank you, though. Tell everyone hello for me.”

“I will,” Emily promises, and with that, the door to Annabel’s compartment slides shut, and she’s alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it!! pls leave kudos and comments if u did !! i will send u lots of love and appreciation


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